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  <title>Ashlyn</title>
  <subtitle>Ashlyn</subtitle>
  <author>
    <name>Ashlyn</name>
  </author>
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  <updated>2008-02-01T01:29:56Z</updated>
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    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:ashlyngrace:881</id>
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    <title>ashlyngrace @ 2008-01-31T17:29:00</title>
    <published>2008-02-01T01:29:56Z</published>
    <updated>2008-02-01T01:29:56Z</updated>
    <content type="html">The camera dangled around Ashlyn's neck as she stood on tiptoes, trying to peer over the edge of the bush blocking her view from the creme colored house.  It was early in the morning.  Before six a.m., even.  The house was eerily silent, like no one was awake yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Or even there&lt;/i&gt;, a voice in the back of her mind nagged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She didn't want to think of that scenario.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wouldn't be a pretty moment if she returned to the office, no pictures on hand, or a blood written promise FOR a photo.  It wouldn't do for her career, or her paycheck.  She glanced up at the house again.  The shrub was taller than she was, and not for the first time, she cursed her lack of height.  Why couldn't she have been born tall, like her brothers, who towered over her?  Even an extra inch or two would have been loved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How am I supposed to get a candid shot if I can't even see them?" she wondered out loud.  She almost felt dirty, standing outside someone's home, waiting for them to step outside so she could snap a picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She often had bad hair days during the middle of the week.  She'd hate it if someone did this to her.  But photos meant money, which meant food.  Maybe she could bend her rules &lt;i&gt;just this once&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't think there's anyone out this early."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sound of a woman's voice startled her from her musings and Ashlyn tried to peer through the bush.  There was a man and woman leaving the house.  Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.  Not dressy in the least.  Perfect clothes to blend in with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I wish I could get there closer&lt;/i&gt;, Ashlyn thought.  But she couldn't see around the bush, let alone get around it, and they'd see her if she approached from the opposite side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If only she could get through the bush...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe someday she would find an answer to her problem.  But for now, she would try to do without a candid photo in favor of a posed fake smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mr. Petrelli, Mrs. Petrelli!" And she burst around to the side, hoping for a quick startle and not an outright fright.  She'd save her morals for a different subject.</content>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:ashlyngrace:551</id>
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    <title>ashlyngrace @ 2008-01-31T09:51:00</title>
    <published>2008-01-31T17:52:32Z</published>
    <updated>2008-01-31T17:57:26Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Screened contact post. Part of &lt;span class='ljuser ljuser-name_12monthsback' lj:user='12monthsback' style='white-space: nowrap;'&gt;&lt;a href='http://community.livejournal.com/12monthsback/profile'&gt;&lt;img src='http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif' alt='[info]' width='16' height='16' style='vertical-align: bottom; border: 0; padding-right: 1px;' /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href='http://community.livejournal.com/12monthsback/'&gt;&lt;b&gt;12monthsback&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.</content>
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